August 29, 2006
Originally posted June 30 2004
I made a list of names... all the people that I had worked with who were dead now. I had 54 names on the list and just looking at it today, I could add five more. I remember making that list, but I'm not certain why I did it. I believe that I was sitting at my desk one day, mired in some miserable paperwork, and I just needed to let my mind go elsewhere for a break.
So, I started thinking about dead people. (go figure) And I made a list.
These weren't just names on a piece of paper. They were people I KNEW. People I worked with, ate with, laughed with and played golf with. All dead now.
I don't believe that anyone becomes conscious of his own mortality until he's outlived a lot of people. That's one of the reasons that kids are fearless. They aren't familiar with death. They believe that they will live forever.
And I wish that they could.
August 24, 2006
More Toilet Humor
On this day last year! Originally posted August 24 2005
A few minutes later, I heard his plaintive moan, "Rob! Look in my backpack. Get my Swiss Army kinfe. It's in the top left pocket."
I found the knife and asked, "Do you want me to bring it to you?"
"Not yet," he replied. "Open it up until you find the thing that looks like needle-nosed pliers." I did, and I found it.
"Got it, Steve," I said.
"Good. Now come over here and pull this turd outta my ass. I think it's stuck!"
I would have sacrificed my life for Steve. I would have done almost ANYTHING he asked me to do. But this was one time he was on his fucking own. I was NOT going to use a Swiss Army knife to pull a turd out of his hairy ass. Friendship goes only so far.
"Pinch it off or live with it, ya prick!" I yelled into the woods.
I was greeted with silence.
Steve eventually emerged from the bushes with toilet paper in hand about 15 minutes later. "Did it all come out all right?" I asked.
"Yeah. Once I blew that first plug out of my ass, everything was fine. YOU were no fucking help. And all along I thought you were my friend."
We laughed about that incident right up until the day he died. I think about it and laugh today.
August 21, 2006
Originally posted on August 27, 2004
I rant frequently about yankees. I truly DO believe that they live a different life than we do Down South, because the manners are different, the weather is different and the food is different. But they remain Americans, just like me.(Unless they put sugar on grits. Then, they MUST be dragged off and shot.)
I learned something interesting in Costa Rica when I was taking Spanish lessons from the bartender in the hotel. She had a book filled with American idioms that she couldn't understand. I can remember a few: "Go fly a kite." "That's a rough row to hoe." "Shoot the moon." "Go jump in the lake."
There were plenty of others and I tried to explain them to her, but eyes started glazing after a while. "It doesn't make SENSE!" she protested. I suppose not. I learned that Spanish has its own idioms that don't translate well.
I also told the bartender that she was talking to an American from the deep South and if she went to New York City (where every Costa Rican I talked to seems to be dying to visit) she would hear a totally different language. She gave me a pen and a bar napkin and I drew a rough map of the USA. I divided it into four distinct regions.
#1) The deep South. People there talk the way I do and they tend to have an accent that nobody studying English as a second language will understand.
#2) The midwest. That's where Standard American English comes from. Just look at how many newscasters and radio personalities come from the midwest.
#3) The northeast. Sweet Bejus!!! Pawk the Caw in the Gawage. Cuber (not "Cuba"). I don't consider New York City to be part of the northeast, because a totally different language is spoken there, but I didn't want to make my bartender any more confused than she already was.
#4) Pure yankee. Those are people from Ohio, Pennsylvania and Illinois and all parts around there. You want to tell the difference between a Southerner and a yankee? Just ask them to say, "nice, white rice." You can tell right away where THAT person came from.
I left the far west out of my sermon because I hadn't been there yet. I DID tell the bartender that people from California are easy to spot because they use "you know" and "it was like" all the time because they are inarticulate nut-heads.
Then she told me that Costa Rica has four different accents depending on what part of THAT country you happen to be in. Hell--- Costa Rica is about the size of Georgia--- how can THEY have four distinct accents? It was all Spanish to me.
But then I thought... I know the difference in my home state between the people who live below the fall line and those who live above it. WE DO NOT TALK THE SAME WAY.
If you have an ear for accents, the USA is an incredible place to be. If you like diversity in speech, we've got it. It's like music to me sometimes.
But we Southerners are gonna teach those yankees to talk right someday. The blogfest might be a start.
August 20, 2006
I Love My Family
Originally Posted May 29, 2004
I went to see my mama and my grandmother today. My Uncle Virgil was there, too, and we had a nice, long conversation about a lot things other people wouldn't understand. We laughed a lot, but my family is famous for witty repartee and a good sense of humor.
My grandmother just turned 93 years old. She's tiny and frail now, but she was a pisscutter in her younger days. Virgil told about how, when my grandfather administered haircuts to him and his two brothers, Mommie (that's my grandmother) always made sure that all three had enough hair left on their heads so that she could grab a handful and snatch them around when they fucked up. She would check the length of the cut, nod approvingly and say, "That's a good haircut. I can grab that."
Mommie was fixing supper one afternoon and wanted to make some cornbread, but she was out of buttermilk. She gave my Uncle George some money and told him to go to the store and buy a quart. George became distracted by some game he was playing and didn't scoot off quickly enough to suit Mommie. "I thought I told you to go to the store and buy a quart of buttermilk," she said to George, who was still playing in the yard and oblivious to his responsibility.
"I'm going in just a minute," he replied, which was the wrong thing to say to Mommie. She grabbed a switch and laid a nice lick on one of his bare shoulders. "You'll go RIGHT NOW!" she said, drawing back for another swipe. George went, kicking up a cloud of Kentucky dust behind him.
When George came home with the buttermilk, he had a nice, red welt on his arm from the switch-mark. "Look, Mommie," he said, pointing to the V-shaped stripe on his arm. "You made me a private."
"Yes, I did," Mommie replied. "And if you ever ignore me like that again, I'll promote you to sergeant."
She meant it, too.
I have hundreds of such stories to tell. I've heard a lot of them more than once, but I never get tired of hearing them again. I come from a long line of good storytellers. A meeting of my relatives is a lot like a blog-meet. If you want to get a word in edgewise, you'd better talk first and talk loud.
My family is quiet and shy, just like me.
August 19, 2006
From now on, each day, if possible, I'm going to browse dad's archives and post something from the past that I think is worth reading again. If anyone has come across an old post that THEY think is worth re-posting, please let me know.
This one was posted on his old Gut Rumbles site.
Saturday December 29, 2001
At least I put last night to good use. I watched my beloved Georgia Bulldogs receive a disgusting ass-whipping from Boston College in the Music City Bowl, did my laundry, opened this blog site, stayed up late drinking wine and slept on the sofa. I woke up looking and feeling like Fido's ass. Now I don't know whether to make a pot of coffee and a lumberjack breakfast or just fix a very large Bloody Mary and waste this entire day.
August 18, 2006
I want to start my own website for my art. I'm willing to pay for hosting and all but I need some suggestions on how to get started. All I know is the free sites like Geocities and Blogger. If anyone out there still reads this and could send me in the right direction, it would be greatly appreciated. You can e-mail me at my dad's e-mail address.
August 14, 2006
Checked Dad's E-mail
Today was the first time I'd checked dad's e-mail since I was in Savannah. He STILL gets a lot of e-mails from people asking questions about guns, Georgia, seafood and, well, weird stuff about things I wouldn't think to ask HIM.
August 06, 2006
I've slapped together a quick and dirty photo gallery for the pictures that Livey sent Sam. If anyone else has any pictures of Rob that they'd like to share, email me the picture and short description (who/what/where/when is especially important for blogmeet photos).
You can view the gallery here.
August 02, 2006
This is my new Ebay blog. I figured by letting Ebay host my blog I'd get more traffic to my listed artwork.
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